Random Slashiness
by CodiasePosseCRxTD
Summary: A collection of my old oneshots along with new ones that I decide to write. Read, review and enjoy!
1. Be My Valentine

**A/N: So this is my Valentines Day story. Just so you know, I hate this holiday. I think its completely and utterly stupid. But yeah. The pairing is Randy/Evan. I used Evan's real name, Matt. So read and enjoy! Also, forgive me for any grammatical or spelling mistakes.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from the WWE. All I own is the plot. I respect the sexuality and preference of all wrestlers and if I don't get their character the way the legitimately are, it's because I don't know them.**

**Warnings****: Slash, implied sexual thoughts, intimate scenes (NO SEX! SORRY!), possibly a few swears. Not really sure.  
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**Be My Valentine**

Monday. Valentine's Day. Raw. All three are one and the same this year. And it sucked royally. Well, at least for Matt. He may have a lot of energy and endurance, but he IS small. And being small meant he had to work harder. So just one match wore him out, especially since most of the guys were bigger than him. Tonight, he had a match with Randy against Mike and Phil. He was happy that it was a tag match. This way, he had some time to recuperate. And he was glad that said match was with Randy. Tagging with Randy was…

"5 minutes, Bourne!" a stagehand yelled, pulling Matt from his thoughts. He stood up and looked in the mirror. He took a deep breath, put on his signature smile and headed to the gorilla. He met up with Randy, Phil and Mike. He wished his oppenents luck when his music hit. He headed down the ramp, hoping this match wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would.

**xXx**

A half an hour and a win later, Matt walked up the ramp side-by-side with Randy. They turned at the top of the ramp and Randy raised their hands. The fans cheered loudly. They turned around to walk backstage, but Randy kept his hold on Matt's hand. Matt blushed. They got backstage and headed to their respective locker rooms. It took about 15 minutes for them to shower and get all their stuff together. They met up in the parking lot.

"Hey babe," Randy said, wrapping an arm around Matt's waist and kissing his temple. Matt just smiled at him. Randy frowned. "Something wrong, babe?"

"Just tired. That match really took a lot outta me," Matt replied. Randy nodded. They got into the car and headed to the hotel.

**xXx**

When they walked into the hotel room, Matt gasped. It was beautiful. The living room had been turned into a makeshift dining room, with a table in the center of the room covered in a crimson red table cloth. There was a flower centerpiece with red, pink, white, orange and lavender roses. There was a white candle on each side of the centerpiece. There were two plates placed in front of two chairs on each side of the table. The plates were white with 2 gold stripes on the outside and a wine glass to the right of each plate. On the plates was a beautiful meal. Filet mignon (A/N: Amazing steak. I swear I almost orgasm when I eat it) with cheddar broccoli spiral pasta and French-cut green beans. (A/N: My favorite meal. I just had to throw it in there) Matt teared up and looked at Randy. Randy smiled and took their stuff, throwing it aside. Then he took Matt's hand and led him over to the table. He pulled out Matt's chair – as a true gentlemen should, chivalry and all that – and Matt sat down. Randy sat across from him. He poured him some Sprite in the wine glass. Matt smiled.

"Well don't just sit there! Dig in!" Randy chuckled. Matt smiled wider and started shoving food in his mouth. Damn, he was hungry all of a sudden. Randy just chuckled and started to eat.

While they ate, they made small talk. Whether it be about the weather, the cities they visit, stupid storylines or annoying personas, they were happy to be with each other.

After about an hour, they decided it was time to get ready for bed. They went into the bedroom of the suite and slowly stripped each other until they were left in boxers. Randy's were Air Bourne with the plane and Matt's were RKO with Randy's tattoo. They lay down in bed, letting their hands roam ach other's bodies, feeling the ridges and hardness of the muscles. Soon, their hands started to slow and they both started to doze off.

"Matt?" Randy said.

"Yeah?" Matt replied sleepily.

"Be my valentine?" he asked. Matt popped his eyes open and look up at the love of his life.

"Of course," he replies. "I love you, Randy."

Randy smiles. "I love you, too, Matt."

And with that, they both felling into a deep sleep, dreaming about a future with each other.

Yes, Matt would always be Randy's, no matter what the label was. As would Randy to Matt. With even breaths and steady heartbeats, both men help onto one another, neither willing to let go because together, no matter how hard it got, life was perfect.

**A/N: So? What'd ya think? Complete and utter fluff. I love that phrase. "Complete and utter…" I say it a lot. But yeah. So review! I'd like at least 5! Please?**


	2. Changes

**A/N: Wrote this for my girlfriend a while ago. ShawnMichaels/JoMo.**

**Disclaimer: I own nada.**

**Warnings: Slash. Sex. Language.  
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**Changes**

_Retirement._ The word rang through John's head as he stared at the table.

He was currently sitting at a table in a light blue silk shirt and dark wash jeans, his hair having more care in it tonight than most nights. Across from him sat his boyfr- fiancee, Shawn Michaels. And what the Heartbreak Kid just told him did just that - heartbreak.

"You- You're going to retire?" he asked, his voice cracking on the word 'retire.'

Shawn sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was wearing a red, cotton button-up with a pair of light blue boot-cut jeans and cowboy boots. "Yeah, John. I'm getiin' older, and my body can't take the abuse anymore. I don't want to leave. You know that. But I'm not in top shape anymore. My prime has come and gone. It's time for me to leave and you young'uns to take charge of the company," he said softly, yet sternly, looking at John's face.

"But you can't go! Shawn, this company still needs you. The Superstars still need you. _I _need you!" John exclaimed, gaining the attention of people around them.

"John, lower your voice," he whispered harshly, looking around and glaring at the people. They all turned away, but kept an ear open. "You'll always have me, John. Just because I'm leaving the company doesn't mean I'm leaving you. You guys have Glenn and Mark, Jay and Adam. Hell, you have Randy and John. They're all great wrestlers and can help anyone who needs it. Hunter is still around, too. Trust me, this is for the best."

John looked down, his hair hiding his face as tears fell from his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be losing Shawn, but he knew what kind of toll a long distance relationship took on someone, especially when they spent so long together. He saw it happen to his best friend, Mike, with his husband Steve. He knew how hard it was for Mike to spend 300 days away from home, and his lover. He didn't want to deal with that.

"I just... We're going to spend so long without each other. I love you, but I need physicality in a relationship, too, Shawn. I'm a man. I have needs," John said, looking up at Shawn, his eyes red and puffy, his face tear-stained.

"You think I don't know that, John? I know how hard it'll be. More so than you. And if you didn't notice, I'm a man as well. I have needs, too. Physicality is something I need, too. But I can't so this anymore, John. My body can't handle steel cages and ladders and intense matches with the like of Undertaker and Triple H. You can. You're body is still young. You can do all those high risk moves I used to be able to do. And like me, you'll do those until you can't anymore.

"But I promised myself that I wouldn't stay past my time. I wouldn't be like Ric Flair, trying to wrestle when he's lost the talent and the ability to heal right. It's my time, Johnny. My time is up, your time is now. I need you to support me, so when I tell everyone else, I know that no matter how they react, you accept my decision, because that's all I need," Shawn said, reaching over the table to stroke John's face.

John leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I accept your decision," he said softly after a few moment of silence. "I don't like it, but I accept it."

Shawn smiled. "Thank you, Johnny. So much," he said softly. He pulled his hand away and looked up as their waiter walked by. "Um, excuse me. Can we get a check?" he asked.

"Right away, sir," the young waiter said with a friendly smile and walked off.

John and Shawn chat-chited until the waiter brought their check. Shawn paid - much to John's chagrin - and then they left.

The drive back tot he hotel was filled with mindless chatter as well, something that came so easily between the two after so many years together. The retirement still weighed heavily on John's mind, but he wanted to spend his time with Shawn wisely - and that is just what he planned on doing.

The arrived at the hotel, John taking Shawn's hand and leading him up to their room. They got in and he locked the door, letting Shawn do his duties in the bathroom. He himself stripped down to nothing and sat on the bed, stroking himself to hardness then hiding under the covers.

Shawn walked back out and saw John on the bed, no shirt on. This didn't strike him as odd, so he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed with John. He didn't notivce the nakedness or the oh-so-obvious hard-on his lover had. He put his hand in John's, putting them in John's lap. That's when he felt John's hard on. He looked at the young brunette and raised an eyebrow.

John smirked and straddled his waist. He ran a finger down Shawn's bare chest, making the older man shiver. He leaned down, brushing his lip across Shawn's as he began to grind his ass against Shawn's groin, elicting a moan from the older man. John took the chance to really kiss him, sliding his tongue in his lover's mouth and fighting Shawn's tongue for dominance.

John won in the end and explored the wet, hot cave that was Shawn's mouth. He pulled off Shawn's boxers and threw them elsewhere, laying the blond down. He kissed down his neck while lining Shawn's now hard member with his entrance.

Shawn stopped him. "Babe, lube," he breathed.

John shook his head. "I want you. NOW." He quickly sat fully on Shawn's cock. Pain ripped through his body from the intrusion so he sat there for a few moments while Shawn rubbed circles on his thighs, waiting for him to adjust. Soon the pain faded and he slowly rose up until just the head of Shawn's cock was in him before goign back down quickly, Shawn hitting his hotspot. John moaned and repeated that action, gradually building speed, Shawn's groans and moans of approval egging him on.

They went at it for a while - taking is slow, then moderate, then fast - for God only knows how long. At some point before his first orgasm, Shawn had started stroking him.

A few hours later, John was lying next to Shawn, his head in his chest, running a finger up and down his chest in a lazy, loving manner. "So long as you give me that every time I come home, you can retire," John said softly.

Shawn smiled. "I promise, Johnny. There will be changes, but we can do this."

John just smiled and fell asleep, that word running through his head. _Changes._


	3. Creep

**A/N: So I was watching Raw last night and Cole was interviewing King in the ring (LOL that rhymed) and was, yet again, praising Miz. Now, I love the Miz. He's probly my favorite wrestler right now. So I got to thinking: 'If I was a wrestler, and I was with Miz, what would I do to this dirtbag?' and TA-DA! A new fic. I hope you like it!**

**A/N2: In this, WWE is NOT PG because there is excessive swearing.**

_**Warning: Swearing, violence, semi-slash**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Miz, King, Cole, Riley or any other employee of the WWE. And if I did, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be in my room and I miss a shit load of school.  
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**Creep**

I watched as Cole talked to King. I was not only disgusted by the way he was disrespecting Lawler, but his seemingly obsessive love with Mike. And the first time he mentioned Mike, I nodded to the tech guy.

_**I'm everywhere…  
>What you get is what you see<br>It wont take much to get hooked on me  
>So shoot me right into your skin<br>And I will be your heroin**_

My music faded out and I brought the mic up to my lips. I stared at Cole who was staring back at me, along with everyone else in the stadium. It was dead silent. I'm sure everyone backstage was watching as well. They were curious as to what I was going to do.

"Michael Cole." He went to say something, but I interrupted him. "Shut your fucking mouth and let me speak. You stupid fuck, listen and listen closely, because your fate rests on your own actions. I hear you every fucking week, saying how awesome the Miz is. It's 'The Miz' this and 'The Miz' that. It's annoying as fuck. What, are you in love with him or something?" He went to reply, but I cut him off, again. "You know what? Don't answer that. I don't want to know. I don't care. But you need to lay the fuck off. The Miz, I'm sorry to let you know, hun, is mine. And I swear to fucking God, if you keep talking about him like he's the light shining through your darkness, I'll beat your ass. Better yet, I'll fucking kill you. And I don't give a fuck if I get fired. Stay. The. Fuck. Away. From. My. Boyfriend. And if you touch him again, your ass is grass. Cole, you're a fucking creep. You're lucky I don't come down there and beat your ass right now. I swear, if Mike tells me you did ANYTHING remotely creeper to and/or around him, you WILL die." At this, my voice got dangerously low. My temper could rival Randy's and Ted's combined, and win. "Back off, creep, and maybe, just maybe, you well being will be spared. I will only give you this one warning. So watch it." I smirked, dropped the mic and walked away, my music playing and everyone trying to figure out how to react.

When I got backstage, to say I was steaming I was so pissed, would be an understatement. Cole just rubs me the wrong way. And, obviously, everyone knew that seeing as they wouldn't even look at me when I passed. I went into my locker room, slammed the door shut, locked it, and then, all Hell broke loose.

By the time Raw ended, I was feeling a million times better. Sure, I had to wreak havoc on my locker room and it was destroyed now, but I felt good. I was heading over to Mike's locker room to see if he and Kevin were ready to go to dinner. When I was around the corner from his locker room, I heard voices. One was flirty and annoying, the other annoyed and low. I turned the corner and the sight I saw brought back may anger ten-fold. There was Michael Cole, pinning my boyfriend up to the wall, his body flushed with Mike's. Cole had a flirtatious look and Mike's face was contorted with anger and annoyance.

I growled, charging forward and ripping Cole off Mike. I stood in front of Mike defensively, my face most likely showing off my anger seeing as Cole got a look that told me he was close to pissing his pants. I looked into his eyes and growled.

"What in the Hell do you think you're doing? Did you not fucking hear me out there? Do you think I was doing that for my health? No. I fucking warned you what would happen. That wasn't just for show, you sick fucking creep. I told you to back off. You should have listened."

Then, before Mike or Cole could react, I lunged at Cole, knocking him to the ground. I straddled him and punched him the face over and over and over until I felt satisfied. I stood waiting for Cole to do something stupid. Seeing as he was, he was apparently thinking that I was done because he started to get up. He was on his hands and knees, couching up blood. I kicked him in the ribs once, twice, three times. He fell back to the floor, clutching his midsection. Then, I stole a move from Randy's book.

Now, don't get me wrong. The ONLY time Randy's mean is when he's pissed or in the ring. He wouldn't legitimately do this. But thankfully for me, I would. I backed down the hall a bit, waiting for him to try to get back up again. After a minute or so, he was back on his hands and knees.

A sick, twisted smirk found its way to my face, the corners of my mouth curling up just the slightest bit. I charged forward, punting him in the skull. He fell over, knocked out. I sighed and smiled, finally content.

I looked at Mike, who was looking at Cole wide-eyed, but a smirk was present on his face. He finally looked away from Cole and into my eyes and I felt the sexual tension growing between us. He walked up to me, pushed me against the wall, hands on my hips, flush against my body, his ever so present erection rubbing against my leg. He looked back into my eyes and kissed me. A kiss that was lip bruising, teeth shattering, breathtaking. A kiss that was hungry, dominant, lust-filled, urgent and passionate. I knew at that moment, there would be no dinner tonight. Tonight, sweet little Kevin was on his own. I kissed Mike back, meeting every feeling equally.

After a few minutes, someone cleared their throat. We pulled apart and glanced at the location of the sound. There stood Kevin Kiley, his Alex Riley smirk plastered on his face.

"No dinner?' he said. Me and Mike looked at each other and smirked, then looked back at Kevin.

"No dinner," we stated. He smiled, picked up his stuff, stepped over Cole and left.

"Have fun!" he called over his shoulder.

I smiled and Mike grabbed his stuff, then took mine. He stepped over Cole and grabbed my hand. Before we left, I turned back to Cole, kicking him hard in the gut. He groaned, but didn't wake.

"Creep," I spat at him and turned back to Mike. I smiled at him. "Mikey?" I said sweetly.

"Yes, baby?" he smiled.

"Can I carry the title? Pretty please, with me on top?" I said. He smiled and opened his bag, pulling out the title. He handed is to me and I swung it over my shoulder. He zipped the bag back up and grabbed my hand. We walked out of the arena, happy and in love.

"Mikey, you know I'm taking this title from you, right? It feels too good on my shoulder," I said as we walked to the car. He just laughed.

"Well, babe, if you let me fuck you while you wear it, I think I'd be okay with that," he replied. I smirked.

**A/N****: Well? What do you think? I think it's pretty good. I don't usually do het, but I'm okay with it if it's with an OC. So review and tell me what you think!**


	4. No One Messes With Her Viper

_**A/N: So this was also inspired by Raw last night, when Punk was talking shit about Randy and Randy came out, started to beat his ass and Punk cowered away like a pussy. This isn't exactly what I would do, but it is something I would, if it was my only option.**_

_**Warnings: Swears, violence, het**_

**Discailmer: I own no one and nothing, blah blah blah. I hate writing this cause it keeps reminding me that I do, in fact, own nothing except OCs and parts of the plot.**

**THE SPEECH IS, WORD FOR WORD, WHAT PUNK SAID AND RANDY'S REACTION WAS HIS LEGITIMATE REACTION. THANK YOU.  
><strong> 

**No One Messes With Her Viper**

Phil sat in the ring after his match with Morrison had ended. Brodi sat in Randy's locker room as he went through the crowd to attack Phil. She had been ordered to stay in his dressing room (she likes to cause trouble) while Randy would take care of Phil.

Phil brought the mic up to his lips, and started to speak.

"Randal! Randal Keith Orton, where are you at? I'm right here." He stood up. "I'm standing right here, in the middle of my ring, and I have decided to give my new Nexus the night off. I promise you, this is NOT a set-up." He kneeled in the middle of the ring. "People make decisions that effect other people's lives day in and day out. These people decided today to buy a ticket to see me. September 7th, 2008, Randal, you decided to punt me in the skull, rendering me unable to defend my World Heavyweight Championship." He stood back up. "A few twists and turns aside and that leads us to today, right here, right now. And you have the most important decision of your life to make. See the, the bright lights of WrestleMania, Randal, are not in your future. Just. Walk. Away. You don't deserve to be at WrestleMania and it's up to you to decide why. And it's either gonna be because you're too crippled to compete because I am going to finish what you started. Or, or, WreslteMania's not in your future because you actually care about your physical well-being. Cause I'm gonna hurt you if you show up to Monday Night Raw next week. So just. Walk. Away. Just walk away, Randal. If you don't, if you show up next week to Monday Night Raw, I will turn you upside down. I will pour your heart out onto the mat…" The crowd goes wil and Phil looks to his left. And sees none other than Randy Orton. Randy attacks Phil, getting in quite a few hits, but when he goes for the RKO, Phil pushes him away and escapes. Randy is seething in the ring and Phil, well Phil is cowering away, like the pussy he is.

Brodi looks away from the T.V. as Randy's music plays. She smiles, knowing that Randy can take care of himself. And she also knows, as she wanders out into the hall, that she's gonna kick Phil's ass. Because, you see, backstage, he has no one to help him. Nexus couldn't care less. Everyone else is busy. And he likes to go down deserted hallways. Dumbass.

She follows him down one particularly long hallway. When they near the end, she attacks. She runs up to him and kicks him in the back. He groans and falls down. He turns onto his back and looks up at her, eyes wide. She stand over him and smirks. She drops down, straddling him and punches him in the face a few times. Then she gets up and backs away. He starts to get up and she kicks him in the gut, then the ribs, then the chest. He goes back down, laying on his stomach, eyes screwed shut in pain. She starts stomping on his limbs. First his arms, then his legs.

Then she stands on hid back and jumps up and down. She hops off, then back on, then back off. Then she stomps on his back. When she heard a crack, she stopped.

Then she stood next to his head and raised her foot slowly. And brought it down, hard and fast. He groaned loudly, and she knew he was on the brink of consciousness. She squatted down and pulled his head up by his hair, his neck bending in an impossible way.

"Don't mess with my viper," she spat, then pushed his head down with a force she knew would knock him out. When she heard the sickening crack of his head hitting the concrete, she smiled and stood up. She kicked him one last time in the side before walking back the way they came. No one would find him for a while, she thought about how his wounds would heal badly because he got no medical treatment soon. She smiled.

When she arrived back at Randy's locker room, he wasn't there.

"Huh. Must be at the showers or something," she said and sat on the couch and pulled out a book she had started reading but hadn't had the time to finish.

About a half an hour and 150 pages later, Randy came barging into the locker room. Brodi screamed, not expecting that. She dropped her book and put a heart over her chest in an attempt to slow her racing heart.

"Holy fucking shit, Randy. You scared the bejeezus outta me. What the hell is your problem?" she said, when she noticed the look on his face.

"I've been looking for you for almost an hour! Where the hell have you been?" he yelled in reply.

"I went to the bathroom when your music started playing after Phil went all pussy. I came back and you weren't here. Why didn't you just wait for me?" I ask. He got a confused look, then his face went angry again.

"I told you to stay in here until I got back!" he yelled. Brodi started getting angry.

"So, what, I cant piss without your fucking permission now? Sorry, dad, but you aren't the fucking boss of me. I. Went. Pee. Deal with it. You know what? I'll get a ride back to the hotel with Ted. Have a nice night," she replied, anger coursing her veins. She grabbed her stuff and stomped out, going to Ted's locker room.

"Theodore Marvin DiBiase Junior, answer this door right fucking now!" she yelled after knocking a few times. 10 or so seconds later, a disheveled Ted answered the door.

"What?" he says. "I'm kind of busy."

"Stop pretending you're banging Maryse and drive me to the hotel. And don't tell me you actually ARE banging Maryse," she said when Ted went to defend himself. "I know you're feelings for Evan better than you think, hun. Now get your stuff and let's go. I'd rather not run into Randal." Ted just nodded.

15 minutes later, they had arrived at the hotel. Ted was sharing a hotel room with Randy and Brodi, so they headed up there.

"Teddy?" Brodi said. He looked at her and smiled.

"Yes, B?" he replied.

"Can I, um, possibly, maybe, sleep, I don't know, with you, uh, tonight?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied and she sighed in relief.

"Ted, you are my savior. I love you!" she said, kissing his cheek. He just chuckled as they arrived at their room. Ted slid the keycard in and opened the door.

The first thing noticeable was the mess. Things destroyed, Randy's and Brodi's stuff everywhere.

Brodi gasped when she saw her first ever wrestling merchandise, a hand-signed picture of Randy, on the floor. Tears pooled in her eyes as she walked over to it and picked it up. To most people, it was just a silly piece of paper. But to her, it was special. It was the first thing WWE she ever bought, and it was her boyfriend. No, her fiancé. She sighed and looked at the picture, then the ring on her left ring finger. She slid down the wall and started to cry.

She messed up. She knew it. But to do this… Randy couldn't be thinking straight. He must have forgotten to take his meds. Now that she thinks about it, he seemed really irritable all day.

She got up and slowly walked to her and Randy's bedroom. She glanced in but from what she could tell, he wasn't there. She went in and over to his bag. She pulled out the bottle of pills and unscrewed the cap. She poured the pills in her hand and counted. 20. The same as yesterday. She sighed, put the pills back in the bottle and put the bottle back.

She counted the pills every morning to make sure he took them, but after their, um, extracurricular activities last night, they woke up late and she woke up exhausted. There was barely time to do anything. She looked around, looking for PJ pants and a tank top. She changed quickly, throwing her dirty clothes into the corner of the room and made her way to Ted's room. When she was outside the door, she heard talking.

"…Randy, just get over it. Shit happens. You didn't see her when she walked in. When she saw that picture on the ground, damn, I thought she was gonna get pissed. But she cried, Randal, cried. You can be a real idiot sometimes," Ted said. Someone sighed.

"I know, Ted. I just… I worry about her. I know she's a big girl but, man, I love her. I'm gonna marry her. I get protective sometimes. Too protective. I know that. I just… cant change it. It's who I am," Randy replies and Brodi smiles. Ted starts to say something, but she doesn't hear it. She walks back down the hall and into her and Randy's bedroom. She lays down on the bed and closes her eyes, wishing Randy was there. Right before she's about to fall asleep, Randy walks in.

"Brodi, babe, are you awake?" he whispers. She smiles.

"Yeah," she answers sleepily. "Come get into bed with me." She hears him get undressed and then she feels the mattress dip under Randy's weight. She scoots closer to him, putting her head on his chest and snuggling into him. She sighs at his warmth and listens to his heartbeat as he runs a hand though her hair. Slowly, the hand in her hair stops and Randy's breaths are even, his heartbeat steady. She smiles, ready for sleep herself, glad that their fights are always over by the time they go to bed.

Yes, they do butt heads. And yes, they both have anger problems. But when push comes to shove, they love each other and will do anything for each other.

Phil groaned, waking up from whatever knocked him out. Immediately, he wished he could go back to sleep. The pain was excrutiating. He groaned again, and rolled over, immediately regretting it.

Brodi smiled in her sleep, dreaming about her and Randy's happiness of the moment and Phil's pain. Yes, she knew that she had taught him a lesson. No one messes with her Viper.

**A/N****: Okay. This is WAY longer than I thought it was gonna be. The ending is blah but its all that I could do at this point in time. I suck royally at endings. But review and tell me what you think! I'd love to hear come feedback. **


	5. Tomorrow, Today, Yesterday

_**A/N: Okay, so I literally just thought of this, and it seemed like a good idea. So read, review and enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own the plot. That's it. I don't own any wrestlers. Unfortunately.**_

**Warnings: Dark, grim, not a happy ending. SLASH!**

**Tomorrow, Today, Yesterday**

It was dark in the room as he entered, no sounds but the one's he made and light, even breathing from the body in the bed. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk as he almost soundlessly walked from the now closed door to the bed. He looked down at the body, peaceful and unconcious.

The man lying on the bed was not aware of the man looking at him, a mere few inches away. He was too far from this world, in one of his own in his unconcious mind. He was dreaming of a certain Viper, one that made him feel good in ways he never thought he could. And not just sexually. Emotionally. He loved said Viper, to an extent he had never felt. And he knew, in his mind, the Viper loved him back.

The man next to the bed pulled an object from under his trench coat. It shined in the moonlight streaming in through the partially opened curtains. The man's smirk grew and he ran it across the sleeping man's cheek. He flinched and his muscled spasmed a bit, but he didn't wake. The man smiled and stepped away, sitting in a chair not too far from the sleeping man. He was waiting for him to wake up, and it was only a matter of time.

Before he knew it, the young man's eyes fluttered open and they looked took a moment to adjust to the light. He looked around once he could see and his eyes scanned right over the man. He shrugged slightly and got up, heading into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. He always did it, because he was insanely paranoid.

The man in the room smirked once more, getting up and knocking something over, causing a loud noise. The man in the bathroom jumped, his heartbeat quickening. He stared at the door, his eyes wide. It was times like these he wished his lover had taken time off with him. He always felt safe in his arms.

His eyes scanned the room for a weapon and they landed on his phone. He sighed slightly in relief, though his heart was still pounding. He quietly tip-toed over to it, grabbing his phone and calling nine-one-one.

The phone rang and he flinched, feeling like it was too loud and that the man could hear.

"Nine-one-one emergancy line, please state your name," a female voice said.

"You gotta help me," he whispered shakily. "There's someone in my house. I live at 403 Mississippi Avenue in St. Charles, Missouri. Please hurry," he finished before hanging up.

The man started banging on the door and he looked around wildly for a weapon, but found none. How do we not have a weapon in the bathroom? he thought the door burst open. His eyes went wide as they landed on the large knife and the even larger man. He whimpered and back into a corner, sliding down until his ass hit the floor and his knees were under his chin. He wrapped his arms around his legs and started rocking back and forth.

The man smirked and walked over to him slowly, his boots making a soft noise, though it was loud in the young man's ears. He crouched down in front of the young man and tilted his head slightly to the side. A smirked danced on his lips. "Are you ready to die?" the man said lowly and gruffly before lashing out.

**xxxARxROxxx**

The young man walked down the street, his hands in his letterman jacket's pocket to keep the wind for freezing them.

He had made it through that night, barely. The police had burst into the house after the attack, the man long gone. They got him to the hospital in time and called his lover. He was too tramautized to speak before he went unconcious and then he slipped into a year long coma. His lover was going to pull the plug, but Alex woke up just in time. It had taken him a while to get back into the swing of things, but another year had passed adnd he was better now. It was like the attack had never happened.

Except for the fact that it haunted his dreams everynight, and made him paranoid everytime he was out alone. He had scars on his face and body, too deep and ragged to have been fixed. His brain had been messed up slightly from the attack and the coma, leaving him a bit slower than before. This attack haunted him for the past two years, and it would do so for the rest of his life. He knew it was going to be hard, but he had his lover, and his family, and his friends for support. He could make it through anything with them.

His phone went off, playing I Do by Mark Willis. He smiled and answered. "Randy," he breathed.

"Alex," Randy said, sounding breathless himself.

Alex had maganged to stay with Randy, though the attack still hurt their relationship. Even now, two years later. But they managed, going to therapy when they needed. But there was still so much love between them.

"Get home. It's getting late," Randy said.

"Of course," Alex smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Randy replied. "See you soon." He hung up.

Alex put his phone away and began his walk home.

**xxxARxROxxx**

The man stalked Alex quietly, staying to the shadows of the forest on the opposite side of the road. They were fairly close to the house by now, and his opportunity was closing. He hadn't completeed his mission two years ago, but he would now.

Two houses away and he stuck, grabbing the man from behind, keeping a hand over his mouth as he dragged him into the forest. He turned Alex around and forest greens met ocean blues. Without warning, he snapped Alex's neck and let him drop. He looked around before using his quickness and strength to place Alex at the doorstep of his house, ring the doorbell and run back to the woods without being seen. His task was done.

**xxxARxROxxx**

Randy heard a doorbell and frowned. He looked at the time. He wasn't expecting anyone, and Alex would walk right in. He walked to the door and opened it, frowning when he didn't see anyone. "Wow. Real cool gu-" he stopped short when his eyes landed on Alex. He dropped to his knees, tears already pouring down his face. "Alex," he breathed, taking a pulse. Nothing. "No," he whispered, pulling Alex into his lap and holding him as he cried for his fallen lover.

**xxxARxROxxx**

Soft music played as people conversed, all wearing black and mourning. Randy was the worst off, worse than Alex's family, even. Everyone who laid eyes on the tall brunette felt their hearts break. None could imagine the pain he was going through.

Randy looked at the casket, unable to stop the tears that have been pretty much constant for weeks since he died. His parents tried to comfort him, Alex's parents, his friends. Nothing worked. So many people worried about him. They were worried that he, too, would kill himself. And he would, when people back off. But he wouldn't tell anyone that.

The service started and everyone took their seats. In the back, though, was that pair of green eyes that watched the life fade from Alex's eyes.

**xxxARxROxxx**

A gun. A hand written letter to each person he cared for intensely. A body in a tub, wearing only a pair of boxers, a single gunshot in his head. His vancant eyes stared up at the ceiling, as if his body was watching his soul rejoice with that of his lover in the Great Above.

And at his funeral, while all mourned, the green eyes watched intensely from the back, the same ones that watched as he tortured Alex, hoping he succumbed to death. The same ones that watched Alex's life fade. The same one's that watched Randy kill himself, too overcome with grief. Those intense green eyes. The ones that belonged to...

Chuck Norris.

**A/N: Wow. Intense. That was hard for me to write. I almost gave in and wrote a happy ending. I love Randy/Alex, and I hate that this is the first I wrote them this way.**

**A/N2: Chuck Norris. Yup. All Norris. Never woulda guessed, huh? GOOD. I wanted to put some M. Shyamalan twist in it, though it wasn't like... Whoa! Mindfreak. (LOL. 3 Criss Angel!)**

**AN3: Rate and review! Would be greatly appreciated! 3**

**Sincerely,  
>PricelessxxxMizfitxxxLove<strong>


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